


Keep You In Line

by JustineDelarge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Spanking, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:52:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustineDelarge/pseuds/JustineDelarge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NOTE: This story is now part of a larger one in progress currently titled Confession.  http://archiveofourown.org/works/648398</p><p>Summary: Dean asks Sam to talk dirty. Sam brings up how Dean used to spank him, and how he liked it. Dean files that information away for the right moment. And then the right moment comes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wincest, implications of unresolved sexual tension when the boys were teenagers. No actual sexual activity during that time. PWP. Spanking.

Want me to talk? Ok. I’ll talk. Gonna babble. Don’t even know what I’m saying. Don’t even know what I’m fucking saying.  So crazy for you. That’s what you do to me. You cock in my ass. Dean. Your mouth on mine. Fuck. Makes me lose my fucking mind. My big brother’s cock in me, fucking me, making me do whatever you want. Making me come for you. Yeah?

How long you been wanting this, Dean? How old were you, the first time you jacked off to thinking about fucking me? 17? 15? How long have you wanted this? ‘Cause I’ve wanted you for fuckin’ ever, Dean. Wanna know the first time? Maybe you don’t. Might freak you out. Wanted you to fuck me for fuckin’ ever, Dean. Thought about you. Pretended it was your hand on me. Your mouth on me. Your fingers in me, Dean. Fuck. Working me open. Getting me ready for you.

I used to fuck myself and think of you. Used my fingers. Used other stuff too. Yeah? You like that?  Used the handle of my hairbrush. Stuck that up my ass, jacked off, pretended you were watching me, fucking screamed your name into the pillow. Dean. Dean. Dean. Always been you.

And remember when you used to spank me? When Dad was gone and I messed up? Even wonder why I messed up so much? Got me so hard, Dean. You spanking me. Way your voice sounded, all rough. Came so fast after you left. Barely even had to touch myself. Wanted to come right on your knee. Underwear pulled down. Come all over your leg. But I was scared. Scared you’d freak out. But holy shit, Dean, I was fucking crazy for you. Wanted you to finger me and spank me at the same time. Wanted you to tell me to beg you to fuck me. Would have. God, I would have. Would have fucked back against your fingers and taken your spanking, real hard. So hard. Hard enough to make me cry. Promise to be a good boy. Come all over you. But only when you said. Only when you said. 

Mmmm. You liked that. Did it get you hard? Spanking me? Pulling down my pants and smacking my bare ass? That why you did it so much? Get me all bright red and squirming for you? Knew it. Always knew you wanted more. Wanted me to spread my legs for you, smack me all cherry red, make me cry and beg and shiver.

And I did, Dean. It felt so good. Loved you doing that. Keeping me in line. Wanted to ride your cock while you spanked me. Make it feel so good and hurt so much, all at the same time. Wanted you to see how much I’d take for you. Show you how bad I wanted it. God, Dean, wanted you to make me your little slut. Just for you. Make me do anything. Strip for you, jack off for you, fuck my ass raw with a toy while you watched, crawl to you on my hands and knees, suck you off, swallow every drop, get you hard again, spread my ass for you, beg you to fuck me. Beg for you to just kiss me. Fuck. Because there’s nothing better, Dean. Nothing better in this world than how you kiss me. How you fuck me. Only ever gonna be you, ever again. Just you. I belong to you. Nobody’s ever gonna make me come but you. All of this. All for you. All the working out. All the weights. All to make me look good for you. Make you want me more. Make myself beautiful for you. 

‘Cause I’m yours. Yours. So take me. Take it. Come inside me. That’s what I’m for, Dean. For you. For you. For you. 

 

** Chapter 2 **

Dean remembered what Sam said about the spankings he used to give him.  And he said nothing until one evening, after Sam had let a baddie slip past him, and the creature had hit Dean hard enough to draw blood. Sam was, of course, mortified and devastated, and kept apologizing.

Dean shut the motel room door and drew the chain. Sam was pale, shaky. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” Sam sat on the bed-for-gear and pulled off his boots and socks.

Dean looked at him steadily. “You messed up, Sammy.”

Sam straightened up, and stared at Dean, big brown eyes wide.

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched in the way it did when he looked at something he wanted bad. Like his Baby. Or Sam, naked and spread out for him.

Sam’s breathing came a little faster. “I… what?”

Dean chewed on his lower lip. “You messed up back there. Can’t have that. It’s been way too long since I kept you in line, huh?”

Messed up. Keep you in line. This was code, disused code from when they were teenagers and Dean had to discipline Sammy when Dad was away.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. “Come here, Sammy.”

Sam was frozen in place, eyes locked onto Dean.

“You know how this works, Sammy. You come over here and lay yourself out on my lap and take it all like a good boy, I’ll go a little easier on you. You make me drag you over here and hold you down, I’ll beat your sweet little ass so hard you’ll have to sleep on your stomach for a week. And you know damn well I’ll do it.”

Sam did. Sam remembered how Dean would use his belt on Sam, leave welts and bruises that Sam would feel for days afterward, would run his fingers over and press until he gasped.

Sam got to his feet, and walked to Dean. With shaking fingers, Sam undid the buttons of his jeans and shoved his pants down to his ankles. Dean tilted his head and said nothing, but Sam understood, and turned bright red. He pulled his underwear down too.

Dean whistled. “Goddamn. Look at that.” Sam’s cock was painfully engorged, the head deep red. "Already bursting out of your skin."

Sam blushed.

“Come here.”

Sam laid himself out across Dean’s lap, awkwardly, since he was twice the size he was the last time they did this.  When his cock touched Dean’s thigh, he inhaled sharply.

“Oh, Sammy…you’ve missed this. Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Sam whispered, head hanging down.

Dean gripped his hair and pulled his head up.  “Louder.”

“Yes. I missed this.” Sam’s voice was louder.

Dean glanced to his left. “Nice. I can see your face in the mirror like that.” He tightened his fingers in Sam’s hair until he hissed. “Two rules. Number one, you take everything I give you, and don’t try to cover your ass with your hands. Number two, you keep your head up so I can watch your face in the mirror. Got it?”

“Yeah.” Sam was already trembling.

Dean leaned down and whispered in Sam’s ear, “You do that for me, and I’ll let you come while I spank you.” Sam shuddered.

“Goddamn. You really did want it bad, didn’t you. All those times.” Sam’s breathing came fast, like he was on the verge of coming practically untouched. “I did too, Sammy. Wanted to touch you. And now I can.”

Sam arched his back, pushing his bare ass up. “Do it. Dean. Need it.”

“Yeah you do.” Dean’s hand fell hard against Sam’s smooth ass, leaving an immediate handprint, white at first, then filling in red. “Need your big brother to spank you. Hard, right?” He swatted Sam again, his palm making a sharp crack.

“Yes. Please. Spank me hard.” Sam dropped his head for a split second, then remembered and held it up again.

“Good boy.” Dean spanked Sam nice and hard, covering his ass and the back of his thighs with palm prints, putting more muscle into it. He watched Sam’s face in the mirror, each grimace and gasp sending a stab of almost unbearable pleasure through him. “Pain looks good on you, baby boy.”

Sam moaned in response, grinding his hips against Dean.

“Yeah. Come on, Sam. Rub your cock on me. Like you wanted to all those times. Fucking hump my leg while I spank your ass cherry red.”

Sam sobbed, and obeyed.

“I bet my jeans are all rough on your cock, huh, Sammy.” Sam nodded frantically. “Good. Hurts a little. That’s what you deserve for messing up.” Dean’s hand fell hard and fast now, spanking Sam’s ass without mercy. Tears spilled down Sam’s face, carefully tipped up toward the mirror. His hands scrabbled at the bedspread.

“Starting to really sting now, huh, Sammy? Bet you wish you could grab your ass and stop me, right? Is that what you want to do? Make me stop?”

Sam shook his head no, and dropped his hands back down.

Dean paused long enough to draw his fingertip across the tight pink rink of Sam’s asshole. “God, you’re gonna feel so good under me when I fuck you into the mattress. Skin all hot against mine.”

The sound Sam made was half-sob, half-growl. “But first, baby boy.” Dean resumed the spanking. “First, I’m gonna spank you until you come all over my leg.” He let loose with a sharp volley of smacks that had Sam howling. “Yeah. Amazing how much I can make it hurt with just my hand, isn’t it?”

He smoothed his hand over Sam's ass, and pushed against it, making Sam rotate his pelvis against him. “Come on, little brother. Ride my leg.”

Sam pumped his hips, rubbing his cock against Dean’s thigh, face flickering with pain and pleasure. “

“You liked the belt, but I think you loved this best. Just my hand. You on my lap. Bare ass exposed. Trying to hide that you were hard.”

Dean centered his smacks on Sam’s ass, now a brilliant red. “But I knew, Sammy. And I knew what you did after I finished spanking you, left you on your bed, crying, with your pants pulled down.” His hand punished Sam mercilessly now, driving sharp cries out of him, tears running down his face. “I used to stand outside the door and listen.”

Sam’s hips pumped frantically, his mouth open, face bright red.

“My sweet baby brother… ass all red… fucking his fist. Whispering my name into the pillow...”

Dean’s hand was on fire, but he wouldn’t have stopped if the Apocalypse happened. “I didn’t even touch you, Sammy, but all those times, I was the one making you come. You came for me.”

And at that, Sam cried out, writhing, hips stuttering against Dean’s thigh, soaking his jeans.

“Good boy. So good. So beautiful. Sammy. Fuck.” Sam had barely finished coming when Dean dragged him up into a fierce kiss, fisting his cock, wringing out an aftershock nearly as intense as the first orgasm, sucking the whimpers and cries from Sam's mouth. Then Sam found himself face-first on the mattress, Dean’s hands hauling his hips back, the sound of lube squirted from the large bottle always kept on the bedside table, and then Dean worked his cock into Sam. Sam opened to him gradually but easily, taking him in, giving Dean what he needed.

“Sam.” Half-gasp, half-prayer. “Wanted this. Wanted to do this. Always wanted you. Just you. Wish it had only ever been you."  Dean fucked into Sam, grinding against him, short strokes so he could keep the skin contact. “Fuck. Your ass is so fucking hot. Sammy.” His voice rose, took on that desperate tone he made when he was about to come, like he was taken by surprise by how intense the pleasure of it was. Sweat sheened his skin, his scent becoming sharper. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Sam pushed back into Dean. “Yours. Dean. Always yours. Always been yours.”

Dean roared out his orgasm, convulsed with the force of it, falling forward, gripping Sam’s shoulders, side of his face pressed against Sam’s back. When he had caught his breath, he pulled out of Sam slowly, stripped off their clothes, positioned Sam on his side so his sore flesh wasn’t pressed into the mattress, and wrapped his arms around him. He wiped the tears from Sam’s face and kissed him, so soft and sweet that it brought fresh tears to Sam’s eyes. “My Sammy.”

After a long moment, Dean stroked his hand down Sam’s back and came to rest gently on his ass. “You alright?”

“Better than alright.” Sam rubbed his nose against Dean’s throat. “You could do that again sometime. If you want. Not even as a punishment or anything. Just ‘cause we like it.”

Dean lay back against the pillow, eyes crinkling with the force of his grin, pulling Sam even closer. “Somebody up there likes me. They really, really like me.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole spanking thing works really well for both of them.

 

After that, things got a little crazy.  

More specifically, Sam went a little crazy for Dean spanking him, and Dean went a little crazy giving it to him.

They didn’t bother with the ruse that it was about punishment. It hardly ever had been in the first place. No, Dean spanked Sam because he loved to do it, and because Sam loved to take it.

He really loved to take it.

 

A lighthearted smack on the ass, to make Sam shove over in the shower and make room for Dean, turned into Sam pressing his mouth against the wet tiles, moaning, as Dean soaped up his ass and spanked his ass cheeks, working his cock with the other hand until he shot all over the wall, then Sam sinking to his knees gratefully and sucking all the fluid out of Dean’s body through his cock.

One day, Dean found a large wooden hairbrush with a curved handle, while they were out. They were both barely able to restrain themselves until they got back to the motel. Dean made Sam strip naked, hold the brush in his mouth, crawl across the carpet to him sitting in the reclining chair. Made Sam straddle him facing away from him and lower his upper body to the floor, his muscular thighs on either side of Dean’s lap, his cock nestled in Dean’s crotch, his perfect ass on display. Dean spanked Sam with the hairbrush until he was writhing and sobbing, pumping his hips in circles, toes curling, and begging Dean so pretty to let him come. And Dean did. He made Sam get on the bed, made him show Dean what he used to do when he was a teenager, made him shove the handle of the hairbrush up his ass and jack off until he came screaming Dean’s name, staring into Dean’s rapt eyes the whole time;. Then Dean fucked Sam so slow and sweet, rocking into him for over an hour, grinding into him like it was an art form, kissing him, running his hands all over Sam’s body, teasing his fingertips along every muscle, line, curve and indentation. Sam sighed and relaxed, swelled and hardened, gasped and praised Dean with his body and his voice, and finally begged to come again, and begged, and begged until his voice grew hoarse.

And then Dean let him come, and came himself at the exact same time.

Yeah, they both really liked this whole spanking deal.

One afternoon, after yet another witness interview requiring Fed suits, the itch hit Dean before they’d even left the middle-aged librarian’s house.

They got into the Impala and headed out onto the highway back to where they were staying. They drove through an area lined with trees. There weren’t many cars on the road, but there were some. When Dean spied a space with a gravel-free flat spot, he pulled over.

Sam gave him a confused look.

“Stay where you are.” Dean walked around the car, grabbed a towel out of the trunk, opened the right side door to the back seat, and then opened Sam’s door. He dropped the towel on the ground in front of Sam’s door, then walked back and sat down in the driver’s seat again.

“What—“

“Kneel on the towel. Facing me.” The tone of Dean’s voice was enough to give away that whatever he had in mind, Sam would like it. So he obeyed. He climbed out and knelt on the towel.

“Pull your pants down. Underwear too.”

“But Dean—“

“Do it.”

Sam obeyed. His body was shielded from view on both sides by the open doors. The only thing anyone could see, if they slowed way down and stared, was Sam’s lower legs and shoes.

“Lean forward on the seat.” Sam lowered himself and stretched out on the seat, ass bare.

When Dean removed his belt, Sam groaned.

“Fuck. Dean. Oh my god.”

“Feel good, Sammy? Feel that sun on your ass? Feel the breeze on your cock?”

“Yeah. Christ. Dean.”

“Now lay there and take it.” Dean wrapped the belt around his hand until it was just the right length, and still fully clothed in his Fed suit, jacket and tie and all, he leaned across the seat and swung the belt down hard on Sam’s ass.

Sam cried out, hands scrabbling on Dean’s thigh.

“You like that, baby boy?”

“Oh god. Oh god.” Sam went from zero to 200 in exactly the time it had taken Dean to get this rolling. He squirmed and arched up into each lick of the belt. “Fuck. Dean. More. Harder. Dean. Please.”

“God, you love it. Can’t get enough of you, Sammy. The way you move. Look at you. Begging for it.” Dean strapped Sam with the belt again and again, driving guttural cries out of him. A car passed in the other direction, slowing slightly.  

“I think maybe they saw you, Sammy.”

Sam moaned and clutched Dean’s thigh, thrusting his hips back and up, raising his ass higher into the punishing strokes of the belt.

“Ah. You liked that. Want people to watch me beat your ass red?”

Sam’s response was wordless sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t tempt me, Sammy. I’ll do it.” Dean snapped the belt again and again. “Find the right kind of club. Take you there. Spank you raw in front of everybody.” Dean’s voice dropped lower. “And I’ll fuck you. While they watch.”

And Sam came. Nothing touching his cock other than warm sunlight and a gentle breeze. Came hard, spurting onto the towel beneath his knees, hand squeezing Dean’s thigh, chanting his name.

A shaking hand on a zipper, his wet mouth on Dean’s cock, and within seconds, Dean was spilling into his brother’s mouth, hands seizing the steering wheel in a death grip.

Sam closed the back seat door with a gentle kick, and dragged himself into the car.

“I don’t even know how I got this lucky.” Dean helped Sam put himself back together. “But anything you ever want, Sam. Anything.”

Dean pulled back out onto the road, and steered the car towards their temporary home. Sam alternated staring at Dean and out the window, blissed out and sated.

Dean loved that only he got to put that look on Sam’s face.

Dean stumbled across the door sill, post-coital sleepiness taking hold. “Nap. Burgers. Shower. Not in that order.”

Sam stripped off his tie and tossed it on the table. “So… anything?”

Dean sprawled on the bed, digging at his tie. “Anything.” He stared up at Sam, who had a positively wanton grin on his face. “Why? Watcha got in mind?”

Sam unbuttoned his white Fed shirt at the wrists, then down the front. Slowly. He slid it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “Fuck me. ” He ran his palm down his chest and stomach, coming to rest on the button of his pants, watching Dean’s pupils go wide. “While they watch.”

 


End file.
